Clock Strikes Twelve
by corneroffandom
Summary: A series of short stories regarding how various wrestlers spent New Years Eve.


It is New Years Eve, and, while most people are out, preparing for fireworks, or at parties with loud music and expensive champagne, Dalton Castle sits at the bottom of a king-sized bed and watches with a small smile on his face as Brent and Brandon Tate take up most of the floor with one of their infamous Pokemon TCG battles. He understands enough of the game to know which of his boys are winning over the other, eyes fixed on the cards, guessing what his boys will do next, when Brent takes out Brandon's Charmeleon with a well-planned bit of offense from his Marill.

"Aw c'mon!" Brandon groans, discarding the card with a distressed twist to his lips.

Despite his complaints, it's a pretty even battle and Dalton can tell both boys are in their element, challenging each other and having a good time while doing so. Except that Dalton had spent a pretty penny to have _this_ room in particular and he's not going to let anything waste it, so he clears his throat after another minute of this, both boys pausing and looking up at him immediately, Brandon half way to discarding some energy cards to end his brother's Poliwhirl. "It's almost midnight, my boys," he says smoothly. "Do you care to join me?"

Brandon gapes as Brent stares at the clock, eyes wide as he realizes that, without Dalton's interruption, they probably would've missed the dawning of a new year. Both boys immediately scramble up, abandoning the game and Dalton chuckles, shifting up the bed to rest against the pillows as they settle on either side of him, Brent's head resting on his right shoulder and Brandon's on his left. "I'm sorry we almost forgot, Dalton," Brent whispers, breaths warm against Dalton's throat.

"No worries, my pretty boys," he murmurs, running his fingers through their hair. "Everything is as it should be now." Unlike the last couple of months, when he had lost them to Silas Young. Perhaps nothing more than a ruse, yes, a desperate plan B just in case he _should_ have lost the boys. Silas hadn't read the fine print in the match contract where it had said, lost in a sea of legalese, that the boys were to remain with Silas up to Final Battle and no longer... No one had ever said the man was that intelligent, and so the plan had worked out well enough, although Dalton still aches when he thinks about those months the boys were slapped around, ruthlessly knocked out, and made to do disgusting manual labor. About the time they had been apart, and how he had spiraled without them, the two months unending.

Brent, always so intune with his moods, sits up and stares at him, dark eyes piercing and worried. "Are you ok?" Brandon follows his twin's lead, Dalton's lips twitching up into a smile at their matching expressions. "Dalton...?"

"I'm fine, my boys," he says, trailing a hand down each of their faces. "Just considering my resolutions for 2016." Motioning them to settle back against him, he kisses first Brent's temple, then Brandon's. "I vow never to take either of you for granted again."

The boys exchange glances before nuzzling closer. "And we resolve to train harder and become better to protect you from Silas and Beer City Bruiser so that you can focus on becoming a champion in ROH," Brent says softly.

Dalton smiles fondly, squeezing his boys' shoulders. "I'm not sure what I've done to deserve both of you, but I'm thankful for it." The three of them lay there quietly, watching as the clock ticks over to midnight and fireworks begin to reflect across the skyline visible from their windows and the boys gasp, Dalton's grin growing as he takes in the awe on their faces as the bright lights reflect off of their eyes. _Money well spent,_ he thinks. "Happy New Years, boys."

-x

New Years Eve is quiet. Spud spends it with his parents, watching the celebration from London on TV until it's time for him to go to the airport. His skin feels itchy, tight. After almost five months, he's finally heading back, back to the States, back to TNA and all of the friends he'd made there. Back to Ethan. He kisses his mum at the gate, hugs his father and promises to see them when TNA tours the UK in a few weeks before getting into line to board the plane.

He waves at them one last time before turning a corner out of sight. As much as it hurts to leave them, he's happy to be returning to everything he's missed in the States this entire time. _If only I could be two people,_ he thinks with a wan smile as he hands over his luggage to security to be checked. It's a long flight and he ends up sleeping through most of it, just to get stirred by a flight attendant. He blinks at her in confusion. "Wha- what is it?"

"We've landed, sir. We're in Florida." She smiles as he all but leaps out of his seat, mumbling and grabbing for his luggage in the overhead compartment. "Do you need some help-?"

But no, despite his size, he's determined and he grabs it and tugs it down, shaking his head. "No thank you, I am fine," he says, dusting himself off and departing the plane. Ethan's not there, which Spud had expected. New Years, for Ethan, usually means drinking and partying himself stupid- not that it would be much different from the last few months, apparently. Spud sighs and grips his luggage tightly, relieved when the rest of it appears on the carousel. He exits the airport and finds a nearby waiting taxi, getting into it as soon as he's sure no one else is coming for it.

After telling the driver the address, he sits back and watches Boca Raton pass him by, his smile growing. He had missed this place, he had missed the sense of _everything_ Ethan surrounding him. This place described Ethan to a tee- full of rich history, promising great things, and somehow comforting all at once. Once they stop at the house, Spud pays the taxi driver, giving him a decent tip, before getting his luggage and walking up the driveway. It takes a minute to remember which is the right key, cursing softly under his breath until he finds it. As soon as he unlocks the door, his hand shakes a little. _It's been so bloody long, what if it's not the same? What if he hates me for essentially abandoning him?_

Sighing, Spud squares his shoulders and pushes the door open, placing his bags on the floor and locking the door behind him. Once he's sure everything's secure, he peeks into the bedroom, the kitchen, and the living room. Nothing. He finds Ethan dozing in a lounge by the swimming pool, hair wild and fingers clinging to the bottle neck of an expensive wine that Spud doubts he could afford if he'd saved all of his paychecks for the next twenty years. Scooping it up, he places it safely on the table on the other side of Ethan before settling in next to him, curling Ethan's arm around him. "Mm," he sighs, allowing himself this brief moment. He's missed Ethan's warmth, how solid he feels against him, for so bloody long...

Leaning up, Spud searches Ethan's face for a moment before pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Ethan's lips, feeling as he reacts, his grip around Spud's middle tightening as he wakes up. "Tiger?" he mumbles, sounding as if he thinks he's dreaming. Spud grins, deepening the kiss a bit, before Ethan pushes him away. "Wait, you're really here?" They stare at each other, Spud nodding uncertainly, when Ethan pales. "What time is it?"

"Something after noon, sir," Spud says. "Why-"

"Dammit, I was supposed to be there to pick you up," Ethan hisses, sitting up- but stopping when Spud's hand presses him back against the soft towel lining the lounge. "Spud-"

"It's fine," Spud says softly, kissing him again. "That's why taxis were created. I'm just happy to be home. You can make it up to me later."

Ethan's eyes flutter, Spud's fingers running through his dark hair feeling so nice after so long without his touch, Spud's voice in his ear, the feel of his lips on Ethan's skin. "Alright," he mumbles.

"Happy New Year, sir," Spud whispers, eyes darkening when Ethan runs his fingers through Spud's hair and pulls him closer, kissing him heatedly.

"Now it is," he mumbles.

-x

Zema Ion is working his magic at the latest nightclub, Robbie in the crowd watching and enjoying the music. Zema's deejaying is really paying off, he's getting more gigs in better nightclubs and to actually get a gig on New Years Eve, well, damn. Robbie's so proud of him, watching as he skillfully switches from song to the next, remixing them perfectly to keep the crowd moving as the New Year comes closer.

They're a couple of minutes away when the club owner walks up to Zema and whispers to him, Zema nodding a few times before reaching over and shutting the music off to get everyone's attention. As the club owner begins to lead them into a countdown to midnight, Zema leaves his equipment behind and makes his way through the crowd, grinning and talking with a few of the people when they stop him to compliment his skills or whatever else. It seems to take forever, but finally he's by Robbie's side and Robbie leans in, a little dazed by Zema's warmth, just how good he looks in this lighting. "You're incredible, bro," he yells out over the crowd still counting.

Zema grins and finds his hand, pulling him closer. "I know. You say that at every event. C'mon." Before Robbie can respond, Zema takes him out into the middle of the dancefloor and they look around as the crowd finally gets to the ten count, the room growing louder and louder as the New Year approaches. They're still standing there when finally the crowd yells "Three... two... one... HAPPY NEW YEAR!" and balloons, confetti and streamers drop down upon the crowd.

Robbie blinks as a new song begins to thrum through the nightclub, the crowd immediately responding to it. "Shouldn't you be up there?" he wonders, peering up to the unmanned equipment.

"Nah, I asked the club owner for one dance at midnight before I continued my set," Zema says with a confident grin. "He definitely didn't mind. Now come on, show me what you've got, _bro._ "

Robbie rolls his eyes. "You're probably going to regret that one," he says.

"I doubt it," Zema grins, searching Robbie's face with an intensity that causes dancing to become the very last thing on either one of their minds. The whole nightclub is moving but they're standing still, examining each other, and it's hard to tell who moves first, but it doesn't seem to matter to either of them as Robbie's hands tangle in Zema's hair and he sinks into a simple, soft kiss that just feels painfully _right._ "Well, damn," Zema breathes out once they part, startled and more than a little lost in the moment.

"That was better than I imagined," Robbie mumbles, realizing that Zema definitely heard him over the music. He flushes, worried that that will ruin everything- his and Zema's being best friends, how easily everything had fit into place after Jessie had betrayed both of them, tried repeatedly to injure them severely, leaving them no one but each other to depend on after the abrupt ending of the Bromans. "I mean-"

Zema is grinning though, his dark eyes shining. "I was just thinking the same thing," he comments as if it's as easy as breathing. "In fact, I think that's going to be my resolution. To do that more often." He taps Robbie's lips, his fingers gentle as he takes in the expression on the other man's face, his grin fading slightly. "If you want that, anyway."

Robbie swallows, the fear of losing Zema warring with the fear of losing _this._ Finally he nods vehemently. One could lead to the other anyway, and with this business, well, it's best to grab onto whatever good you can find and never let go for as long as you can. "Yes, I want it. Now shut up and dance with me."

-x

Ricardo is in India. Alberto is in Florida, considering his next move as US champion. As a League of Nations member. As someone missing his ring announcer. He closes his eyes and drops his arm over his eyes, relieved that he'd at least shook off Zeb Colter only a few weeks into his WWE return. He'd never liked the man, had only agreed to work with him as a way in. Either way, it is almost a New Year and he's alone since Sofia had requested some time off to spend the night with a couple of friends. She so rarely requests anything that Alberto had given in easily, although now he regrets it as he sits alone in his quiet, dark bedroom, trying to find a way to pass the time.

He's just about to stand up, go outside and walk around for awhile, when his phone chirps. He grimaces, wondering who it could be- his brother, father, uncle or perhaps one of his new partners. "Hola?" he mumbles, holding it up to his ear without looking. It chirps again, right in his ear, and he flushes, realizing that it's a facetime request. "Ay dios mio," he huffs, accepting it and staring as the slightly glitchy screen forms into Ricardo's face. "Mi valiente!"

"Ha, it works," Ricardo says, his eyes gleaming. "My internet has been spotty the last few days. I was hoping it would be better today and look, it is. Hola, El Patron. How are you doing?" he wonders, growing more serious as he stares at his former employer.

"Missing you," Alberto admits, loathe to admit such things to most people but not Ricardo, never him. He is, after all, the only person who truly knows Alberto underneath all of the cars and the riches and the extravagant houses. "India is treating you well?"

"Si!" Ricardo says, his lips twitching up into a wide smile. "It is amazing, El Patron. I'm getting new students almost every day, and they're so eager and excited to learn the business... it reminds me why I love it so much, you know?"

Alberto smiles at Ricardo's enthusiasm. "I'm glad, mi valiente. Perhaps next time you'll find somewhere a little closer to home to teach people though, hm?"

Ricardo's eyes soften. "Si, I will try, El Patron. Promise." They sit quietly for a few moments, staring at each other. "If you think the phone bill can handle it, and my internet holds up, do you want to stay on and talk until it's midnight for you?"

"Ay, it's already been New Years for you, hasn't it?" Alberto realizes. "Si, si, Happy New Year, mi valiente."

"Si, a few hours ago," Ricardo laughs softly. "Gracias, El Patron."

"And yes, por favor, if you have the time," Alberto says quietly, his voice mixed with longing and hope that his ring announcer will be able to.

"Of course, El Patron... for you, always," Ricardo says softly. "I gave the students the day off for the holiday so I can stay here with you for as long as my connection holds."

"Perfect," Alberto sighs, getting comfortable and not taking his eyes from Ricardo once as the time passes, Ricardo telling him various stories from his time in India. It's a few moments before midnight when Alberto interrupts a story about Shiva. "I love you, mi valiente."

Ricardo lights up, a soft, breathless chuckle following. Their schedules have been so hectic lately, it's been too long since Alberto had been able to say so, since Ricardo had heard it. "I love you too, El Patron. Happy New Years."

"Gracias," Alberto says, watching as the clock ticks from 11:59 to 12:00. "When you are home, it will be."

-x

Zack's got his back to the door, busily sorting his latest Star Wars toys, when Ziggler comes upon him after running out to get some champagne and other snacks for the night. He smirks, staring down at his significant other, before putting the sacks down and slipping his hand into the bag of ice he'd bought to keep the drinks chilled, dripping a cube down the back of Zack's shirt. Zack gasps and arches forward to escape the freezing cold, knocking some of the Funkos over and causing something of a domino effect. "Wha- what?" He spins around and glowers as Dolph starts to laugh, throwing the melting ice at Dolph's forehead. "Not cool, bro. I was almost done, too. Now I have to start over..."

Dodging the ice, Dolph stares at the messed up desk and twists his lips as Zack unhappily turns around to sort things back into some semblance of order. Sighing, he drops to his knees next to him and looks at the boxes. "Tell me what to do, then we can go have some fun before midnight."

Zack raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Really?" When Dolph nods, he lights up. "Alright, well, I want..." With him guiding Dolph through helping him to organize the ridiculous amounts of Funkos, they get it sorted twice as fast than if Zack had just done it by himself, and Dolph smirks as he looks over at Zack, taking in how pleased he looks with the finally sorted collection, eyes sparkling. "So what kind of fun did you have in mind, bro?"

"Do you trust me, kid?" he asks, grinning when Zack looks doubtful. "Come on." Standing, he takes Zack's hand and tugs him up to his feet, pushing him towards the bedroom.

Ten minutes later, Dolph guides Zack outside, shutting the door securely behind them. "Wh- why," Zack hisses as his feet touch the ground. "God, it's cold, bro, what the hell are we doing?!"

Dolph grins, pressing his face against Zack's shoulder as he pushes him forward, finally removing his hands from Zack's eyes. He gives the other man a minute before walking around him, taking in the look on his face as he processes. "I had a hot tub installed over the fall," he says. "You were so busy with NXT, I thought it was the perfect time to sneak this in." Reaching out, his fingers tangle with Zack's and he tugs him closer. "I set it up for us before leaving for the store, it should be nice and hot by now."

"So that's why you made me dress like this before dragging me outside," Zack mutters, shivering beneath the coat that Dolph had thrown over his shoulders so he would have a little more protection against the chill other than his swim trunks.

"Yep," Dolph says, gripping Zack's coat and throwing it off to the side before guiding him towards the hot tub. Once they're in the deliciously hot water, Dolph watches with a small smile as Zack dips his head underwater for a few moments and comes back up, shaking the water out of his hair before gliding over towards Dolph. "Nice, huh?"

"It's great," he says, leaning against the side of the tub. "Glad you thought of this, it's a nice touch to the place." Dolph smirks, about to say something, when Zack's fingers graze his side and he loses his train of thought, the warm, wet kiss Zack presses to his lips only causing that problem to intensify.

Staring into Zack's eyes, their foreheads pressed together, Dolph breathes in the brisk winter air before swallowing hard. "I love you, kid."

"I love you too," Zack says, grunting slightly when Dolph leans closer and holds him against the rim of the tub, eyes fluttering as he kisses him. "Bro," he sighs, digging his nails into Dolph's biceps as he grips his arms, their eyes locking.

Dolph grins and deepens the kiss, running his fingers through Zack's damp hair, tugging slightly. "Kid," he mumbles back, not minding the chilly wind against his back as he trails kisses down Zack's jaw and neck, the warm water and those green eyes glinting in the moonlight enough to make everything else meaningless.

It's close to midnight when reality imposes upon Dolph once more, his pulling away from Zack causing him to grumble sleepily. Dolph shifts forward, making sure that Zack doesn't slip under the water even as he reaches over and grabs the champagne- the ice is a little slushy, but still frozen enough to keep the bottle nice and cold- and two glasses. "Hey, kid," he whispers, cupping Zack's face with a cool hand. "Wake up."

"Mm, what?" he asks thickly, blinking slowly. He revives some, sitting up in the water when Dolph hands him one of the glasses full of bubbly liquid. "Champagne, bro?"

"Yep," Dolph says with a faint smile. "Now, quick, because it's almost midnight... I have a toast for the New Year. Or, maybe I should say, a promise." Zack looks curious as he refrains from sipping the drink, staring at Dolph. "I know this year hasn't been easy for us, so I promise you, here and now. That no matter what I say or do on Total Divas, on Raw, or even on Twitter, this, here, us, is all that matters to me. You're the only one I want to share this house with, you're the only one whose toys I want cluttering every available surface here when you run out of room in your apartment. The only one I want to spend holidays with."

Zack grins behind his glass, even as his eyes are suspiciously bright. "You forgot something, bro."

"Wha-" Dolph is interrupted by Zack's free hand wrapping around his neck and tugging him closer for another, all-encompassing kiss.

"That I'm the only one who you want in this hot tub," he whispers, hissing through his teeth as Dolph rocks forward to press closer to him.

"That goes without saying," he mumbles. "No one but you. I promise."

Zack rubs his nose against Dolph's before pulling away, noticing the distant glow of fireworks in the night sky. "I think it's midnight, bro. Happy New Years."

"Happy New Years," he says, clicking his glass against Zack's. They sip at the bubbly before Dolph shifts and leans back against Zack, looking up at the fireworks against the starry sky. Zack wraps an arm loosely around him and he smiles. _It's already a good year._

-x

Heath hums, leading Wade down to the beach. "C'mon, just a little further, Brit," he says, squeezing the taller man's hand. "You too, Boodah. The walkin's good for you, Dr. Samuels said so." At the mention of his vet, Boodah whines but continues to trot on anyway. Heath smirks as he helps them both settle in, Boodah's eyes tracking him once he's resting on the towel in the sand. Wade grunts as he sits down on a lounge chair, closing his eyes and taking in the warmth of the sun against his skin.

Heath watches them with a pleased look on his face, sitting down in the sand and resting his foot against Boodah's paw, cupping Wade's hand between both of his own and squeezing it. "Nice, right?" he whispers, not wanting to ruin the peace.

"Mm hmm," Wade murmurs sleepily. He dozes as Heath sets up a small grill, frying hamburgers and corn on the cob, potatoes and whatever else he'd snuck in in the old, battered cooler he always insists on bringing with to these kinds of outings. It's pitch black when Wade wakes up again, the only signs of Heath and Boodah being the fire flashing in their dark eyes, and the warm pressure against his fingers and across his legs. "That dog's laying on me, isn't he?" he grumbles.

Heath chuckles, rubbing his thumb against Wade's knuckles. "Yep. Think he didn't want you gettin' cold. Wanna hamburger?" Before Wade can respond, one is being put onto a bun, drizzled with ketchup and handed over to him, Heath's teeth flashing in the faint light. The flimsy paper plate shifts in his hands as a still warm potato and cob is dropped next to the burger, Heath humming under his breath as Wade starts to eat.

He's not sure what Heath and Boodah did for holidays before he came around, and Wade can't help but enjoy the little traditions they've eaked out for themselves. Quiet and simple, even when they meet up with the others for Christmas or Halloween, probably one of the last things one would expect from Heath with his loud hair and his poor attempts at singing, but it is what it is. When not in a WWE ring, Heath clearly enjoys just being alone with his dog and Wade, and Wade appreciates that because... it's what he prefers too.

They sit in silence for awhile, Boodah snuffling between them and the soft sounds of the waves washing up against the sand the only real noise. Eventually Heath drenches the grill and moves it away once he's sure the flames are out, shifting closer to Wade and nuzzling against him. Wade's lips twitch and he wraps an arm around Heath, watching the stars and listening to Boodah explore. Between Boodah's leg injury and Wade's neck problems, there hadn't been time for much of anything fun lately, but this feels like the turning point. Like, perhaps, things will turn around for all three of them.

Heath kisses Wade's shoulder and Wade sighs, fumbling around in the dark until he finds Heath's jaw and draws him up, kissing him on the lips. "Hello."

"Hey," Heath grins. "You ok? Wanna go back to the apartment?"

"No, I'm good," Wade murmurs. His neck is thankfully not that painful right now, thanks to the medicine Heath had not so subtly slipped to him during dinner, and enough time has passed that the initial dozy feeling has passed. "What time is it?"

"Quarter till midnight," Heath says softly, leaning back and resting his head against Wade's chest.

Wade nods and cards his fingers through Heath's hair, sorting the soft red strands in the direction Heath prefers them to go, constantly fussing with it even more than he had when his hair was longer. It had taken time to adjust to the change, but he understands. After losing his 3MB teammates and then being taken to court and losing months of his career, Wade didn't blame him for wanting a change, even though it'd twisted somewhere deep inside to watch chunks of his hair hit the floor until the hairdresser had reached _this_ conclusion. Heath was content with it and that was the important thing to Wade.

They're still resting like that when the clock strikes midnight and fireworks start going off, echoing from nearby houses and apartment complexes, gleaming off of the water. Heath grins before pushing himself up, cupping Wade's face and kissing him deeply. "Happy New Year, Brit."

"Happy New Year," he mumbles back, hoping that it will be, for all of them. But mostly for the man before him as he brushes the hair out of Heath's face and searches his eyes. Not an easy year, definitely not, but he thinks good could be on the horizon. Finding Heath's hand, he gives it a squeeze. "Let's go home."

"Alright," Heath agrees easily. "C'mon, Boodah boy," he calls, getting up and collecting the cooler and grill.

After picking up the chairs and the towels, Wade watches him quietly, reminded all over again the best part of what this journey had given to him all of those years ago. As Heath finishes and walks up to him, Boodah trotting next to him, he reaches out and wraps his free arm around Heath's shoulders, pressing him against his side. "I love you," he says quietly.

"I love you too," Heath responds, a soft grin spreading across his lips as he presses into Wade's warmth, careful not to hit his legs with the cooler. "D'ya need a neck massage tonight?" he wonders as they cross the street back to their apartment complex.

Wade waits until they're at their door to answer, having to let go of Heath to fiddle with the keys. "No, I'm fine," he says, unlocking the door and holding it open as Boodah, then Heath, enters. "But," he continues, dropping the towels and chairs down in a heap in front of the door once he's closed it behind himself, "there is one thing I need tonight."

"Oh yeah? What's that? Still hungry? Could prolly make another burger on the stove, or-"

Heath's just put the cooler and grill down in the kitchen when Wade slips behind him and hugs him, arms snug around his chest. "No, not that either," he mumbles, tilting Heath's face up towards him and kissing him slowly. "Just this."

Heath whimpers and buries his fingers in Wade's dark hair, holding onto the kiss for as long as possible. "Ok," he breathes out once he can speak again, instinctively following Wade's lips when he moves away. "Sounds good. Yeah."

Wade smirks and pushes Heath towards the bedroom, raising his eyebrows at the dog. "Good night, Boodah," he says decisively, shutting the door.

-x

Seth's rehab schedule is ridiculous. And, when he's not rehabbing as many hours as they'll allow, he's sleeping off all of that work. Sometimes Dean worries that he's overworking himself, but he knows that Seth wouldn't have it any other way so he tries to keep his worries to himself- sometimes, maybe, confiding in Roman because Roman's the only one who knows Seth about as well as Dean does. Afterwards, he always goes for a nice long walk and, on good days, Seth is awake and waiting for him when he returns, and on not-so-good days, Dean sits and watches him sleep, listening to his breathing.

New Years Eve isn't much different, except that dammit, it's a holiday and Dean had wanted to do _something_ special to make 2016 start off well. He sighs and taps his boot against the floor before leaning forward and resting his hand on Seth's uninjured foot, pinching his big toe until he stirs, his head rolling around on the pillow until he sits up with a gasp, staring at Dean with wide, blown pupils. "What the-" he slurs sleepily, "hell... you pulling my toes for, Dean?"

Dean smirks and walks over to the bed, settling in next to Seth and wrapping an arm around him, allowing him to lean against him as he drifts between awake and asleep. "It's New Years Eve, man. I wanna go out, do something. Have some fun." His hand trails up and down Seth's side, feeling delicious little shivers against his arm as Seth reacts to his touch. "C'mon, wake up-"

"I'm not going out, Dean," Seth sighs. "I don't wanna lug my crutches around all night, and I'm not really in the mood-"

He still has at least four months of recovery ahead, and Dean gets it, he does. He'd be pissed too, but he'd wanted to at least help Seth to focus on something else, especially tonight. So when Seth tries to put his head back down and fall asleep again, Dean starts messing around with his hair. Making it lay in weird directions, braiding it, doing whatever he can think of until Seth loses his temper and flails up, swatting Dean's hands away. "Come out with me," Dean says, grinning innocently as Seth glowers at him. "I'll find you something to wear."

"Oh my God," Seth whines as Dean gets up and races over to the closet, not wanting to lose this little bit of momentum. "You're the worst," he pouts, hugging his good knee to his chest and staring balefully at Dean. "It's cold, and I don't want to."

"It's not icy out, and considering it's Iowa, it's actually kind of warm out for late December," Dean points out, finding some jeans that are baggy enough that it won't hurt Seth's knee to get them on but that he still looks good in. "You'll be fine." He tosses the jeans at Seth, ignoring his offended huff as he pulls the clothes off of his face, and going to get the shirt he'd decided Seth should wear when he'd first thought of this weeks ago.

Seth's face is blank as he stares at Dean's offered shirt, shaking his head. "I'm not wearing an Ambrose Asylum shirt, Dean," he says blandly.

Dean smirks. "I'll wear one of your crappy SR shirts in return. And you don't have to bring your crutches, just lean on me. I won't make you walk around too much. Promise." Seth looks unimpressed, but Dean's pretty sure he's won anyway.

It's a small bar that Dean takes Seth to, guiding him over to a nearby table and making sure he's settled comfortably before going to get drinks. Beers and some shots in hand, Dean turns to watch him from across the room and releases a breath, relieved that Seth's weaned himself off of most of the pain medicine except in extreme situations, hating how groggy and out of it it had made him feel, and the course of antibiotics post-surgery had also come to an end weeks ago. Otherwise, a night like this one really would've been out of the question.

Straightening up, Dean walks back over and rests the drinks on the table before sitting down and nudging one of the beers over to Seth. His lips twitch upwards and he lifts it, drinking from it while examining the screens on the wall. Some show sports, but most are on the New Years Eve celebration at Times Square, the few people hanging around at the bar waiting for the ball to drop so they could ring in 2016 with another beer. Glancing back at Dean, Seth smirks and downs one of the shots. "Thanks for dragging me out. I haven't been out of the house much lately, except for rehab..."

"I know," Dean says simply. "You're welcome. Figured it'd be good for you." Seth nods and watches as the crowd in New York listen to the performers, Dean's fingers tapping a random beat on the table until Seth reaches over and grips his hand, squeezing slightly. They stare at each other for a moment, but Dean doesn't try to get loose, squeezing back before they both turn back to the TV to watch for a bit longer.

The countdown has just started when Dean lets go and Seth, startled, looks up as he brushes the drinks away and grips the collar of Seth's borrowed shirt, pulling him closer and meeting him half way. He presses a kiss to Seth's lips just as cheers and general rucus comes from the TV screens, the few patrons of the bar exchanging Happy New Years, no one noticing the two men behind them. After a moment, Seth relaxes and melts into the kiss, ignoring the awkwardness of having a table between them as his fingers tangle into the fabric of his SR shirt which, he suspects, will always smell like Dean now. A fact that he realizes he's ok with. "Happy New Year," he mumbles as Dean pulls away, a pleased glint in his deep blue eyes.

"Happy New Year," Dean echoes, downing another shot as he examines the blush staining Seth's cheeks with a certain kind of smugness.


End file.
